Use of the Name
by BurningMandala
Summary: Just a collection of unconnected little Whouffle stories.
1. Trenzalore and the Snog Box

Author's note: Never written Doctor Who fanfiction, however Whouffle won't get out of my mind and this happened. I have about five chapters written. Some short, some longer. All out of order. Just a collection of unconnected little stories based from things here and there, throughout the show. And, of course, from my own imagination.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

All grammar and editing mistakes are my own. Also, I really having difficulty with how I'm wanting to format this all, so, it may be a bit messy.  
Constructive criticism and reviews are accepted, always, and appreciated.

* * *

When Clara closes her eyes, sometimes, she can hear all of the Doctor's voices, see all his faces, pleading for help. For her help.

She's definitely never sure if it's actually real when she hears her own voice…well, voices, in her dreams. She's dying and dying and dying, over again, all the time, trying to save the Doctor. She has to save the Doctor.

They made it back safely to the TARDIS and possibly with more questions than answers, just like before. There were always going to be more questions.

Clara Oswald knew who she was, she was only herself. Herself that saved the doctor, but now, now it's as if she can feel every echo. All the fear and sacrifice and their pain.

Not quite sure on how to leave the Doctor, she stayed in the blue time machine that night, snug in a bed and hoping to get some rest. But instead she had a night of trying to fight off her nightmares and she was failing miserably.

It wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't it stop? Clara had never felt more out of control of anything in her life. Tears made their way down her face and she just didn't have the energy to wipe them away.

_Why am I even crying?_

_I don't even know who I am anymore._

The words echoed in and out of her brain and through all of time and space, it felt like.

"You, Clara, are my impossible girl. What you did back there…was brilliant. You saved the universe."

Maybe she had been saying the words aloud. When did the Doctor get here?

He was sat on the edge of the bed, turned to face Clara, his body over her's a little so he could look down on her, keep her safe. His face was lined with concern and his eyes were sad and the regret in his voice was just a little too loud when he spoke. His voice was strained almost as if from having to stop himself from crying. Like he'd been choking down all of his emotions. Clara knows that it's probably completely likely. He's adapted to some of the human ways from spending so much time his companions. His feelings, how he expresses them, it takes so much out of him and seeing someone he cares about suffering, destroys him.

_We don't walk away._

"I saved you. You're the saver of worlds, Doctor."

"Yes and without you, I wouldn't be here as the Doctor. So, Clara, thank you," he finished as he moved his hand to her cheek to wipe away a few tears that had fallen.

"This is going to change everything, Doctor. I know all I can possibly know about you now."

_Secrets protect us, Secrets make us safe._

The doctor bowed his head and cradled it within his hands. He felt ashamed. Not even River had known his biggest secrets, because keeping secrets is what keeps us safe. It's what he believed.

When you're a time traveller there are rules, suggestions, guidelines that you follow. He'd broken so many, time and time again. Sometimes memories are all there are to keep you going. Everything in your life accounts for one thing that accounts for another thing and another thing and when he thinks about Clara collapsing because she started to remember things he told her, things he shouldn't have told her, he tries to figure out which would have been the bigger mistake. Making her forget or letting her remember? Because even as she had forgotten, little things would slip through here and there and he couldn't keep her safe and he couldn't explain why. Because ultimately, she had no idea. Now she knows everything.

It was all that mattered to him, now. Not his secrets. Clara's safety.

The Doctor grabbed Clara's hand in his own, interlocking their fingers. Maybe she needed comfort, too, but he needed to hold her hand so he could feel. She had slipped out of his hands before, an echo, but he wouldn't lose anymore. Not_ his_ Clara.

"I trust you."

"Eh?"

"You asked me once if I felt safe with you. You've asked me to trust you. I do."

"Really?" he asked, a little surprised, but comforted.

"Really, really."

The Doctor's hearts swelled then, with happiness, with tenderness, and love, really.

"When I take you back to the Maitlands, when you're ready to be home...I might hang around. You know, for a bit."

"What so you can guard me the way you did that first night I met you?" She asked, a bit astonished.

"Yes! Yes so I can guard you, make sure you're safe. You're my Clara, I need to keep you safe."

The Doctor looked a little put off, a bit grumpy and childish because she wasn't jumping into what he wanted right away, which is to keep her safe. Clara wasn't supposed to be alive right now and neither was he and they felt weak but they were safe and away from Trenzalore and the tombs and starless skies.

"Doctor, I'm fine," Clara insisted.

"Right now! You're fine right now. That could change in any second, Clara. We were in my tomb!" His voice cracked and strained, "What doesn't make you that an enemy could be just around the next corner? Clara you have saved me over and over. When the time comes, I will save you, I promise."

She nodded her acceptance and before the Doctor could open him mouth one more time, her lips were pressed against his. The Doctors initial reaction was start flailing because he never expects when he gets kissed by surprised. However, he knew this kiss. Not quite the same as Victorian Era Clara, because this kiss felt like emotion. The human emotion the Doctor has tried to deny himself many, many times. Love, almost possibly. He didn't know the Clara Oswin Oswald version of the girl as well as he knew the actual girl. The actual girl who would be first choice in anything. He returned the kiss softly, but fully, and his hands were cupping her face as their lips grazed together ever so slowly.

The doctor pulled away with a look of shock upon his face, "We were kissing!" he hissed, as if she hadn't been right there with him participating.

"We could have died tonight, Doctor! We're alone and safe in your snogbox. I'm taking advantage of it, what do you say?"

"Well first, she is not a snog box!"

"Down boy, think I just proved you wrong with that theory a few minutes ago,"

The Doctor holds up a finger then to indicate he was going to talk now. "Second of all," he started, his hand on her waist as he plunged his lips down to hers to capture them in a moment of passion before he pulled away, very slowly, lips so close to touching, "I say, geronimo!"

He kissed her again.

x


	2. Ponds and Songs and Things to Come

Use of The Name

Ponds and Songs and Things to Come

"Those were the days. Some of the happiest, saddest, maddest and most insane days," the story always started.

Clara always rolled her eyes which betrayed the grin that was plastered across her face when she heard the Doctor, her Doctor, talk about his old friends and now dead wife.

Sometimes the story would catch a lull when he spoke of River. His eyes darker, sadder, but still happy because he has his memories.

Clara had met River and though it was for a very brief amount of time, she could understand what the Doctor saw in the woman. She seemed like she had been brilliant and loved the Doctor very much.

Clara and the Doctor would fly the TARDIS to some beautiful planet or maybe even a human beach on the Earth and take a picnic along with them.

They could talk and talk and somehow, even knowing the doctor's secrets isn't enough when you can know his feelings. Clara knew there was once a time he would rather die then divugle what he's really feeling in his mind and two hearts.

"It's such a human thing to do, all the feelings stuff", he would whine.

"Tell me about your greatest adventures," she'd tell him. He always did. A wild and excited look in his eyes.

"Have I ever told you about the Pandorica? Strange looking box. Lot's of weird timey stuff, oh! And Romans. Plastic Romans!"

"The Romans were plastic?"

"Yes!" He had such a childlike eagerness in the way he spoke and Clara loved it.

Everyone loved a good story. But stories from the Doctor were always the best. Having travelled with him so many times before this point, Clara thought maybe there could be such a thing as too much saving the world but sometimes the stories had the most wonderful endings.

Other times, you could tell from the Doctor's hoarse and strained voice that he was almost to the end and that it had been an ending of which he wished he could change.

Paradoxes, fixed time, all these strange time travel references that didn't mean anything good.

Clara had seen the doctor cry once or twice before but never the way he did when he told her about New York and the weeping angels. The deaths of his companions, the girl who waited and the lone centurion. Amy and Rory, the Ponds. He could never visit them, could never go to the past and find them and that ripped him apart.

He could find anyone!

"You found me," Clara said, softly, nudging him with her elbow.

He smiled then, "That, I did, my impossible girl."

The doctor looked proud of himself, then, "That leads me to another story that's a favorite of mine! With the Ponds but, Clara, it's the first time I met one of your echoes. She was a sign that nothing is always lost forever. Sent me on the time vortex path thing to finding you."


End file.
